Monday, May 6, 2013
Bless Me Father, For I Have Fucked
Hey there, crime kids. Happy Monday. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where your most violent fantasies become sins of the flesh, right here, where the hardboiled action is non-stop, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.
In Chapter 29 of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, homicide detective Bernie Keko carjacks a civilian's wheels in his mad race to the crime scene in progress, where teenage serial killer Sparkle Plenty is holding the Bargain Clown Mart hostage. Meanwhile, disgraced cop Carrie Love is drowning her sorrows in a bottle, but when she gets a call from Bernie to get her shit together and come help, she gets her ass in gear ...
EXT./INT. SUNSET BOULEVARD - BERNIE’S SUV - DUSK
Bernie and Valentine speed down the Strip like a bullet.
They SCREECH to a stop at a light.
(sees something out the window)
Shit, that kid’s gonna throw a rock at --
CRASH. Valentine’s window SPRAYS
into a million pieces.
A vicious-looking gang-banger
jams an AK-47 at Valentine.
Valentine deftly pulls a
Smith & Wesson from his boot.
Nice gat, what you pay for that?
Shut da fuck up, this is a
fuckin’ car-jackin,’ muthafucka!
Valentine GRABS the gun barrel in a blur of fury,
BANGS it against the window jam --
SHOVES his piece in the kid’s throat.
Problem with that rifle shit
is the length of the weapon,
makes it hard to --
(BANGS the kid’s head)
His body CLUMPS to the ground, WHUMP.
That little FUCK smashed my WINDOW.
Gee. You could say something like,
‘good job, Valentine. Nice reflexes.‘
Shut up! Let me think!
You stay here with the perp,
wait for another unit,
I’m gonna find another vehicle.
You get to go, and I have
to stay here and fucking wait?
No way, I’m always the one who --
Valentine, you stupid fuck!
I HAVE to go there,
she ASKED me to, remember?
Better hurry up then,
could be some Dog Day Afternoon
shit goin’ on.
Bernie opens the door, jumps out.
You actually make me miss the muff-diver.
Valentine puts two fingers in his mouth,
wiggles his tongue.
stands at the curb.
Looks at the sprawl of cars creeping slowly
in a crunch of prime-time traffic.
Always wanted to drive one of those --
A MONSTER TRUCK
towers over the other vehicles.
White trash pride.
Bernie runs up to the passenger door.
YANKS it open.
(flashes his badge)
Outta the car! Police business!
He GRABS the DRIVER,
a frat-boy looking hulk,
THROWS him out.
Hey! You can’t do that!
Bernie SLAMS the door.
Looks down at the kid.
I just did, jar-head!
Go drink some beer
and beat up your girlfriend.
He JAMS the truck into gear.
ROARS onto the sidewalk.
INT. CARRIE’S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - AT THE SAME TIME
Our not-so-plucky heroine is sprawled on the couch,
a lump of self-pity.
On the coffee table, a bottle of scotch.
Empty beer bottles. A shot glass --
And Carrie’s big, chrome Glock.
From the TV, we hear LAURA’S VOICE
cry out with fake passion.
Yes -- gawd, yes. Fuck me!
Carrie grabs the shooter,
FLINGS it at the screen -- CRACK.
POP. The glass SHATTERS.
Fucking -- cunt.
Carrie slowly reaches over.
Picks up the gun.
Girl’s best friend --
She grabs the bottle. Takes a slug.
Pills would be -- much less messy.
Carrie brings the barrel to her crotch.
Wonder if anybody’s ever
blown out their cootch.
Picks up the videotape box.
The title reads HARD CANDY.
Laura’s face grins lewdly.
Oh, yeah -- that’s right.
She FLINGS the box across the room.
Takes another slug.
Candy is dandy --
but liquor is quicker --
(puts the gun to her throat)
But a bullet in the gullet is handy.
The safety clicks.
Dead poet’s society --
She closes her eyes.
Forgive me father, for I have fucked.
The phone RINGS.
Fuck you! Go away! Leave me alone!
It BRRR-RINGS again. She stands.
Marches over to the bar.
Ma Bell’s intruder BRRR-RINGS.
She GRABS it.
SPLIT SCREEN WITH:
INT. MONSTER TRUCK - AT THE SAME TIME
Bernie YELLS into his cell phone.
Carrie, it’s Bernie -- don’t throw it!
What? You -- what the fuck do you --
The phone! Don’t throw it!
That’s what you do,
so don’t fucking throw it.
Listen to me, we’ve found the killer!
A horn HONKS somewhere in her fog.
You found the killer?
She’s taken the Bargain Clown Mart hostage.
I’m on the way there now --
Carrie struggles to focus.
You found the -- movie killer?
How many, how many hostages?
Well, that’s kinda lame.
Tell that to the fifty dead customers.
So why you calling me?
I no longer wear the baby blues.
I’m just a civilian,
I haven’t had a bear claw in a week.
That might be true.
But our fatal fatale wants you and I
to star in her final flick.
Or else she’s gonna kill her last hostage --
EXT. BARGAIN CLOWN MART PARKING LOT - CONTINUOUS
A news van idles.
Live on the 'Action News.'
Stares at the phone. Sighs.
So I guess this is what they call
a ‘wake up call' --